Shooting Star - 1935 Mormon Meteor

Feature Article from Hemmings Classic Car

It's a deep, resonant rumble; a boom somewhere between a 747 at takeoff and an avalanche. The sound--felt as much as heard--comes at you from a straight, chromed pipe that's a full five inches in diameter and looks as if it might have been pilfered from the drinking water system of a small city. The staccato notes are blasted straight back in a narrow, focused stream, not so much announcing the big car's arrival as providing the soundtrack for its departure. In fact, if you were to walk around to the nose of the car at idle, you'd notice that the normal mechanical whirs and ticks from the muscular straight-eight were quite audible over the exhaust.
It's a wonderful noise, fired directly from each of the Duesenberg's eight 52.5-cubic-inch cylinders into your eardrums, with nary a bend nor a muffler to get in the way. It's a sound that hasn't been heard exactly like this in 70 years, ever since its original owner, the legendary Ab Jenkins, had this fire-breathing veteran of the salt flats tamed for the streets. Among many changes, Jenkins had four bends put into that long pipe to allow a passenger to climb in with more dignity, bends that altered the tone of the exhaust.
That's all been reversed now. Freshly restored, in the truest sense of the word, to its Bonneville days, the supercharged speedster served notice of its return this August by capturing Best in Show at the Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance. The Duesenberg's win not only ended a 12-year drought in the winner's circle for an American car, but marked the first time in the Concours' history that a car from one of the racing classes took top honors.
The Duesenberg Special, better known by its subsequent name, the Mormon Meteor, has seldom has been out of the public eye since it rolled out onto the salt flats and began tearing up the record books, but you'd have to be well along in years to have seen--or heard--it in its original configuration, before its racing career and subsequent decades on the roads. Owner Harry Yeaggy is much too young to have seen it then, but he had seen photographs, and he knew just what he wanted when he purchased the car in 2004 from the winning bidder at the Gooding and Company auction, where it sold for $4.45 million, a record for an American car at auction. "When I bought the car, I knew the original designer didn't design it that way," Harry, a Cincinnati, Ohio, banker and hotelier, said. "I knew when I bought it what I wanted to do with it."
"When I first started getting involved with cars, this was my favorite Duesenberg ever, the best American car ever created," Harry said. Though he loved the car, he disliked the later changes that Jenkins had made, and was determined to erase them. "The exhaust pipe looked like a 'U' with two extensions on it--I disliked that immensely," he said.
He approached Duesenberg specialist Chris Charlton, owner of Classic Car Services of Oxford, Maine, who had restored his 1937 Bohman & Schwartz Convertible Coupe. "I like his passion for doing the best job," Harry said. "He loves what he does, and he's just really sincere about it."
"I had seen the car, but had never examined it," Chris said. "It had done well at shows, and I assumed that it would not be a very extensive restoration--a little bit of chrome, a little bit of upholstery." What he found was that the car had been updated twice since the 1960s, but had never undergone a nuts-and-bolts, ground-up restoration. "I was unaware of that, and so was the owner," he said.
Harry "had probably studied the car as much as anybody prior to buying it," Chris said. "There was no question in Harry's mind that it looked better in the original Herb Newport design, with the straight pipe and no doors. He thought that that was when the car looked its best and was the most historically significant."
The work of returning the car to its 1935 appearance began with research. Chris and Harry traveled to Hershey, Pennsylvania, to meet with noted Duesenberg historian Fred Roe, who lent them photos of the Meteor from his collection. Duesenberg restorer and historian Randy Ema provided access to other paperwork associated with the car.
Before he touched the car, Chris examined it from a multitude of angles, comparing its stance with factory photos and specifications. He made notes of how the fenders hung on the car, deciding what sheetmetal would need adjustment to fit properly. Only then did the physical work of restoration begin.
The doors were removed and the openings filled in with .060-inch sheet aluminum, TIG welded while the body was still on the frame. Then the body was removed and the paint stripped away, using chemicals on the alloy and low-pressure media blasting on the steel fenders and grille shell. That revealed previous restoration work "that had been done in the early Sixties," Chris said. "It had a lot of what we wouldn't do today. But for the day, it was done to a high standard."
All of the mechanical components, with the exception of the engine and the front and rear axles, were removed from the chassis and given to in-house mechanic Jack Merrill for rebuilding. The engine would remain in the chassis throughout the bodywork, because the location of the exhaust header was critical for the panels to line up properly. What followed were countless hours of metal finishing, using hammers, dollies and files to reshape the steel and aluminum panels. Panels were reassembled again and again to make certain that the fit was perfect. There were no detailed engineering drawings for recreating the missing head fairings, so photos and sketches provided by Ema had to suffice as guidance. The aluminum fairings were formed over wooden bucks, and made to line up with the filled-in mounting holes found in the body.
Classic Car Services uses an epoxy-based, red oxide primer to make the finish adhere to the metal, on top of which goes a high-build urethane primer--a neutral grey shade in this case. Both primers are Herberts Standox products. Chris' crew uses a variety of fender stands and racks for preparing, priming and painting body components; they'll often use a separate rotisserie for each fender, finding that it helps in applying an even, consistent coat to every part of the metal. After Devon Dresser applied "three good coats" of the urethane primer, the panels were reattached to the car and sanded, first with 80-grade paper, then 180-grade. They were then guide-coated, sanded with 180-grade again, removed, reprimered, and sanded with grades ranging from 220 to 400. Panels deemed ready for paint were then sanded again with 600-grade; for those that were not, the process began all over again. "You can have as many as four applications of primer, including adhesion and fill types on any particular panel," Chris said.
Matching the color of the body relied on "good descriptions from people who remembered the car," as well as traces of the original paintwork from moldings that had never been removed from the front fender brackets. In a previous restoration, "they went back to the original color, but they were off," he said. "What was there was more of a mustard yellow, and we found it to be more of an ivory yellow." That's the way Ab Jenkins' son, Marvin, remembered it, too, in his conversations with Chris.
Getting the look just right required many, many tries. "We started with a much lighter color with good reflectiveness, and darkened down from there," Chris said. They would experiment with 12-inch-square "sprayouts" before proceeding to three-foot-square panels and four-by-four sheets of aluminum. When they felt that they were close, they would spray a four-by-eight sheet in the latest formulation, and then leave it outside to examine it under different lighting conditions. "Believe me, it was ridiculous, but it was important" he said.
With the color question answered at last, the paintwork was applied. Chris abandoned lacquer six years ago when he could no longer get the high-quality material his work demanded, and now uses Herberts Standox basecoat/clear coat paint products. "We've developed a technique to make urethane paints look as much like lacquer as possible," he said. He prefers clear coat to single-stage urethanes because the clear coats are soft enough to be color-sanded and buffed out. Four applications of the base coat were followed by three heavy coats of high-solids clear, which were block-sanded with 600-, 800-, 1,000-, 1,200-, 1,500- and, finally, 2,000-grade paper.
Because it was physically impossible to paint all of the body's components in a single day, the crew kept track of the temperature and humidity level inside the side-draft paint booth, as well as the viscosity of the paint. "This car has an ungodly amount of sheetmetal on it," Chris said, "probably about three times the amount of panel and bodywork that a typical Duesenberg would have." He said his painters generally prefer DeVilbiss or SataJET gravity-feed HVLP guns, using different models for different purposes.
Only when the bodywork was completed was the engine block lifted out of the frame. The frame had been painted black at some point, but the original orange remained inside the fender pontoons and under brackets. The chassis was stripped and sandblasted with very fine sand, then refinished in the original orange, with one exception: An area under the master cylinder bracket was preserved, leaving a bit of the 1935 finish for a future restorer to appreciate. The wire wheels were finished in the same orange.
Most of the work done to the engine was cosmetic. "Typically we do our own engines," Chris said, "but the internals of this one had been done by Brian Joseph of Classic and Exotic Auto Service, someone whose work I know and respect. He did it the way we would have done it."
A Duesenberg straight-eight is spangled with polished aluminum, but that doesn't mean that every piece of alloy gets buffed to a mirror finish. "It has to be polished as it was originally," Chris explained. "Some areas are polished, and others are left rough-cast." For example, the front timing case cover should be polished, but the flanges where it bolts to the head and block should not. Chris uses a method he learned from master restorer Paul Russell for restoring a rough look to polished metal, using an air tool and high-strength aluminum etching chemicals.
The brakes, steering and suspension required much attention. "When a car leaves here, we like to have the car drive like a new car, and not just look like a new car," Chris said. "This car had been used hard, obviously, competing on the salt flats, and it was in need of more than the typical Duesenberg. It had seen hard usage." New bearings, seals and bushings went in as needed, though any original part that could be saved, was. Bits and pieces that needed replacement were sourced from other Duesenberg restorers whenever possible; when not, as with the water jacket screws or fuel filter housing, Classic made its own, and several more in case they or other restorers might need them.
Duesenbergs were supplied with three different treatments for the dashboard fascia: engine-turned stainless, or engine-turned brass with a deep blue or brown finish. The Meteor's was blue, replicated by applying gun bluing to a jewel-turned sheet of brass and finishing with a clear lacquer. The orange leather upholstery was fashioned by Woody Denlinger, with guidance from the shop's 80-year-old, semi-retired main upholsterer, Dick Ferrier. Unable to find a precise match for the orange of the chassis, Classic ordered orange hides and applied surface dye in-house to achieve the right appearance. Black-and-white photos and Marv Jenkins' memory told them how it should look.
Even for someone as accustomed to Duesenbergs as Chris is, the Mormon Meteor is a very special car. "To get this car to do was very meaningful," he said. "It's probably one of the most important, if not the most important, Duesenbergs in existence."
The story begins in the summer of 1935.
Ab Jenkins was already well established as one of the fastest men on earth when Duesenberg offered to build him the Special, a modified Model SJ. Jenkins had gained fame by setting coast-to-coast records behind the wheel of a Studebaker, then set his sights on distance records at his beloved Bonneville Salt Flats. In 1932, driving a Pierce-Arrow V-12, he covered an astonishing 2,710 miles in 24 hours, averaging 112.92 mph; he outdid himself the following year, with an average speed of 117.77 mph, and again in 1934, raising the bar to 127.229 mph.
At the urging of E.L. Cord, Roy Faulkner, the president of the Auburn Automobile Company, suggested to his counterpart at Duesenberg, Harold Ames, that the company build Jenkins a new car for the flats. Built on a standard 142.5-inch Model SJ chassis, the Special was powered by a dual overhead cam straight-eight fitted with a special version of the supercharger, duplex Stromberg UU-3 carburetors, a ram's-horn intake manifold and specially-designed camshafts. Where the straight-eight put out 265hp in standard form, and 320hp with a supercharger, the Special's engine cranked out 400hp. A dropped front axle made the car more aerodynamic, but the suspension was otherwise standard issue.
Duesenberg's chief designer, J. Herbert Newport, dressed the frame in a lightweight alloy speedster body. His creation was a streamlined Art Deco jewel, a narrow, two-seat teardrop designed without the help of wind tunnels. As it was delivered, the Duesenberg Special had long, flowing head fairings for both the driver and the passenger, a full belly pan, and that marvelous straight exhaust pipe. A clever design allowed the steel fenders to be removed for speed attempts, leaving the alloy fairings to help smooth the flow of air around the massive 18-inch Firestones.
Even before Jenkins made his first runs on the Utah salt, the Special had been altered, losing its passenger-side head fairing to make way for the filler for an additional fuel tank, a metal cowl taking the place of its split windshield. This is how it looked when Jenkins reclaimed the 24-hour record that Britain's John Cobb had taken from him in 1934, raising the mark to 135.580 mph.
Eventually outgunned by the monstrous aircraft engines that his competitors were using, Jenkins in the spring of 1935 had the 420-cu.in. Duesenberg eight replaced with a 1,570-cu.in., 750hp Curtiss Conqueror V-12; the work was overseen by Augie Duesenberg and his apprentice, Ab's teenage son, Marvin. It was during the 1936 runs that the Salt Lake City Deseret News held a contest to name the car. The Mormon Meteor was selected as the winner, with a Roman numeral II added to refer to the modified car with its V-12. By the end of 1936, both 12-hour and 24-hour records belonged to Jenkins, at 153.823 mph and 148.641 mph, respectively.
The behemoth Curtiss and the essentially stock Duesenberg chassis were an unhappy combination, and even a huge airfoil added to the passenger's side could not cure its torque-induced tendency to understeer. After its 1937 runs, Jenkins retired the Meteor II from competition, and arranged with Augie Duesenberg to help him build the Meteor III, a machine built purely for the salt.
But Jenkins was not yet done with the car. In 1938, he had the original SJ engine J557 reinstalled in the chassis, removed the remaining head fairing and had a pair of doors installed. That, in turn, necessitated a "U" curve in the exhaust pipe to clear the passenger's door. Originally a cream yellow, the Duesenberg was refinished in red. Ab and Marvin added about 20,000 miles to the Meteor's odometer in the ensuing years, and used the car to welcome visiting dignitaries to Salt Lake City--which had elected Ab its mayor by this time. Jenkins sold the car during World War II to Duesenberg dealer Bob Roberts, who in turn sold it to John Troka of Chicago in 1945. It was then bought by Ben Hudson of Hapeville, Georgia, who undertook a restoration and had the car refinished in red.
In 1959, Hudson sold the car to the Kershaw family, who in 1962 had it restored again, recovering the original supercharger, dual carburetors and intake manifold that had been left off the car after its previous restoration. Knox Kershaw inherited the Meteor and put the car up for sale at Gooding & Company's 2004 Pebble Beach auction. That's what allowed Harry Yeaggy to achieve a lifelong dream of owning the car he considers the most significant American car ever built.
PHOTO 1
Once stripped, the bodywork was assembled many times to get the shape and fit of each panel exactly right; there's no adjustability built in, and very little welting to hide gaps
PHOTO 2
New head fairings were fabricated to replace the missing originals; in the foreground is a new panel for the area around the fuel filler, one of the areas corroded by exposure to salt
PHOTO 3
The straight-eight's internals had previously been rebuilt; alloy pieces were polished, and the block refinished in single-stage Herberts Standox urethane in Duesenberg engine green
PHOTO 4
The frame was stripped, sandblasted and refinished in the correct orange; brackets that held the frame on a rotisserie were used to support it on jack stands, protecting the new finish
PHOTO 5
Each mechanical subassembly was treated separately; these pieces of the car's rear brake mechanisms had been cleaned and bead-blasted, and were awaiting cadmium plating
PHOTO 6
The springs, axles, and other suspension components were refinished separately, and then assembled onto the frame. Note the dropped front axle, made specially for this car
PHOTO 7
The engine, firewall, and rear bulkhead were reinstalled in the frame, and the brakes reassembled. Yellow bins held restored components that were ready for reinstallation
PHOTO 8
The engine's water pump, generator, Stromberg carburetors and other ancillary components were put into perfect working condition and cosmetically restored at the shop
PHOTO 9
The Meteor's cast alloy dashboard is essentially stock Duesenberg. The stanchions that hold it from the alloy firewall provide plenty of room for reconnecting the instruments
PHOTO 10
Back from the plater, the brake components were reassembled. The C-clamp holds the piston in the vertical brake cylinder, which acts on the shoes through a mechanical linkage
PHOTO 11
Body parts were sprayed with an epoxy-based, red oxide primer to make the paint adhere, and a high-build urethane primer. Here, the rear body panel is ready for color coats
PHOTO 12
The wheel fairings were finished in ivory before their interiors were finished in orange; that way, any overspray could be buffed out. Resting on the stand is the grille shell
PHOTO 13
The front and rear body panels were taken directly from the paint booth to the parking area of the shop, to make certain that the color looked correct in the light of day
PHOTO 14
Interior panels were left in red oxide primer, as when the car was new. Jerry Foresta and Woody Denlinger align the body; note the drift through one screw hole of the rear fender for guidance
PHOTO 15
If the car's tail seems ever so slightly canted to the driver's side, your eyes don't deceive you. Factory photos of the car showed the same characteristic, so it was retained
PHOTO 16
The pieces of the body were assembled before the chrome trim was attached. Panels were fitted in a carefully thought-out sequence, starting with the rear fender fairings
Pebble Beach 2007
From Harry Yeaggy's point of view, the Mormon Meteor is the ultimate American car, blessed with beauty, performance, quality and a noble racing pedigree. So you won't consider it boasting when Harry says that he wasn't shocked when the car won Best in Show this year at Pebble Beach. "If an American car was ever going to win, I couldn't picture a better American car," he said. "I knew that this was a special car."
"It was the best of both worlds, in preservation and restoration," Chris Charlton said. "The car presented the opportunity to do a complete restoration and be competitive, but by the same token, put it back into its original form."
"All we did was change it back to the way it was originally displayed," Harry added.
And what now? He scoffs at suggestions that he might take the Meteor to Laguna Seca, or run it in the Mille Miglia; "It's not a race car. It's never been in a race," he laughed. But the thought of bringing it back to Bonneville? That might be a different story.

This article originally appeared in the December, 2007 issue of Hemmings Classic Car.